break & burn & end
by nightlocking
Summary: Short AU about how Lydia and Jackson go through losing what was most important to them, wondering if they'll be able to rebuild they relationship after that event.


_If oil is the soul of the engine_

_And wine is the drink of the gods_

_Forgiveness, the road to redemption_

_Faith can still beat the odds_

_We're meant to be, baby, hold on to me_

_You'll never not be my girl_

_'Cause love is the heart of the world_

Lydia doesn't know if she's crying. She's reached a point where she doesn't even notice anymore, since it's been days now of walking around the house with tears streaming down her face without an end. Before now, she didn't even know a single person could cry so much. She feels week, vulnerable. But the worst of all is that she doesn't even care.

She's in the shower now. Maybe that's why she thought she was crying, because she's been standing there under the flowing water for who knows how long. That's been happening a lot lately, missing parts of the day or finding herself somewhere without being able to remember how she got there. It's as if her mind shut down for a while and forced her into taking care of herself, but she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to _so_ bad it hurts, and finding herself in bed every night and not being hungry because she probably ate and can't even remember what or when hurts too. And it's a deep pain, as if the memories of everything were cutting its way into her soul, ripping her apart to shreds. Why is she even still alive? Why couldn't it all just go away? Every memory, every feeling. She isn't strong enough.

There were days when she'd walk numbly into his room and just sit there, or maybe brush the blankets with the back of her hand or grab the clothes that he would never wear and cry. And not quietly, not trying to pretend like she was fine. She had no idea what that was like anymore, anyway. She'd just curl up on the floor and cry until her head hurt and her eyes burned and she felt heavy and ugly and desperate because there was nothing, nothing at all for her to do now. The morning after, she was always in her bed. She wished she could stay in that room, sleeping, and never wake up.

It's probably nightime, but she can't tell for sure. Not that it matters, anyway. The house is so silent. It's always like that lately. The only sound is water trickling down her back, because her legs can't stand her weight anymore. She's skinnier than ever, though, but things like that don't matter at all. Her eyes close, but she doesn't want to fall asleep, because she knows that she'll have those terrible nightmares again where everything she loves is taken away from her and she's powerless. She never wants to fall asleep, but she does anyway, and it's dark and terrifying and cold there.

Time has been going so slowly these days. It's cruel how he has to sit there and watch her fall apart like that, but he knows she needs him and he's not going to leave her in the state she is in now for anything in the world. After all, she's all he has. Jackson has been falling asleep on the kitchen table a lot lately, but that's probably because he can't allow himself to sleep at night. Lydia has been waking up in the dark of the night and slipping into the other bedroom too often, and he's afraid that one night she'll head to the kitchen and grab a knife and then he'd have nothing else to live for. His only purpose now is trying to keep her alive, but it's just too _hard_. Not because of the fact that it's been weeks since she last ate without him by her side literally putting food into her mouth, or because she spends every waking moment crying or wandering around the house looking for soemthing she's lost with a vague and heartbreaking look in her eyes. It's hard because even though she's breathing and walking and her heart's beating, she's as dead as he is. And Jackson feels so cruel when he thinks that, but there are days when he wishes she was properly dead. Then she wouldn't be in so much pain, and her eyes wouldn't be glassy all the time, and she wouldn't shiver every single time he touched her when she was conscious.

All of sudden, he pushes the chair back and stands up. Lydia's been in the shower for too long now, and she's either asleep or she fell and hit her head. The thought shakes him up and he runs upstairs. He's been paranoid and jumpy since they lost him, and he wants to hit a wall until his hand is bleeding for ever wishing she was dead. If Lydia died, he'd die with her. He opens the bathroom door, and then the curtain isn't between him and Lydia anymore and he realizes he'd been catching his breath so he lets the air go with a deep sigh of relief. She's asleep, probably, but the water's running and her hands are around her knees. She had never looked so frail before. Without hesitating, and without even stopping to close the tap, he carefully steps into the bathtub and sits behind her. He can feel the water soaking his clothes wet and reaching to his skin, and he doesn't even stop to think that she's naked or that he could listen to her crying moments before and he can't remember the last time she fell asleep peacefully. All he wants is to hold her, to keep her safe from everything that's bad in the world. He knows he can't do that, it's too late now. But he holds her anyway, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder. She doesn't wake up easily, because being sad all day can be exhausting. He closes his eyes, and he'll pick her up and take her to her bed and tuck her in mildly in a moment. But now, he just feels the water slipping into his clothes and the the beat of her heart. As one beat ends, another starts. She's alive in there. It's still her, but she's broken and he doesn't know if she can be fixed. "I love you," he whispers into her ear. His grip on her is as tight as ever, he doens't ever want to let her slip away from him. But she is. "I love you, don't leave me. Please." She can't hear him. He doesn't exist to her now.

_A hundred thousand fireflies_

_As they ricochet round the room_

_They remind me of your starry eyes_

_Someone else's might not have made me so sad_

_But this is the worst night I ever had_

_'cause I'm afraid of the dark without you close to me_

_You won't be happy with me,_

_But give me one more chance_

_You won't be happy anyway_

It's as dark as it has never been before. Lydia's running with the baby in her arms, but she can feel her knees failing and he had never felt that heavy before. _Where the hell is Jackson?_ Maybe they have him, maybe he's already dead. _Good job, Lydia, now you can't see a thing with tears in your eyes_. He's crying too, a little call for help from the tight grip of his mother's arms. After all, he's with her. He should feel safe, because there is no way Lydia is ever going to let anyone touch her baby. How couldn't they see that he was just an innocent child? Why wouldn't he just _shut up_ for a while?

Lydia has no idea where she is running to, and all she is aware of are her feet running numbly as if they were independent from the rest of her body and her arms aching from holding the baby for so long. She can't let him go, she just can't. But then she stumbles, and he falls to the ground and she falls with him and then there's a man taking her baby away from her and she struggles to free herself, because they have her too. Sad brown eyes look at her. But then Derek disappears, and so does her baby and herself. And when her eyes open, she touches her cheeks and realizes she's been crying again. She swallows, and sits down on the bed. Just like every other night, she can't even remember getting there, but when she turns her head to the window she spots Jackson. She makes no sound this time, because he's asleep in the couch, but a last tear escapes from her eyes. _Where where you? Why didn't you save us?_ She wants to scream, to shout at him and to tell him that she can't love him anymore knowing that he did nothing to protect their baby, but she just can't. A part of her knows it'd be a lie, because after all, they only have each other now. She can't afford to hate him, but she does, and at the same time she wants to hold him and tell him that he can stop worrying about her now. He looks tired and weak and his hand is stained with dry blood, which means that he's probably been hitting walls again. Stupid thing to do, but he has never touched a hair of her head, so it's probably for the best if he takes his rage out with the building instead of with her. She doesn't do anything, just turns around and closes her eyes again.

When Jackson wakes up, daylight is flooding the room. Lydia's not there, but he can hear her steps downstairs, so he doesn't rush up. It's the first time in weeks that he manages to sleep the entire night, because it's the first night he doesn't have any nightmares. Just dreams. He closes his eyes, wishing he could stay in that world just for a little longer, but the memories of his dream are starting to fade away slowly. He wishes he could take them all and lock them somewhere safe inside his head, a box he could always open when he felt like he couldn't live anymore and it'd take him back to his world of vague ilusions where he was alone with Lydia in their house, happy and young and in love. It hadn't been such a long time since that day, but Jackson felt as if he had an unbearable weight in his back of carrying too many years and broken promises. This night, he had been his old self again. It'd felt incredibly good, but he couldn't turn back time, so he had to face his present.

As he made it through the day, his dream came back in pieces. The smell in the air of flowers and excitement, almost having a nervous breakdown before the music started playing, her hair waving as she walked radiantly down the aisle towards him. Between flashes of light, he'd seen her saying her vows with a voice sweet as honey and then he'd seen his arms around her, protecting her from the rain of rice and people wanting to greet them as they left the chapel. It should've always been like that, he should always have been there to hold her and remind her that she was the most splendid and gorgeous person in the world and he should have protected her when the pack came and took away everything they loved.

_Shadows growing in my mind_

_Ones I just can't leave behind_

_I'm not strong enough to pay this ransom_

_One more monster crawled inside_

_But I swear I saw it die_

_Can you save me from the nothing I've become_

_I abandoned this love and laid it to rest_

_And now I'm one of the forgotten_

She wanted to leave, she wanted to leave the house and Jackson and the town and everything behind so bad. It was all she wished for sometimes. She hated crying all the time, but she couldn't help it. But everything lately reminded her of her past, and then she realized she couldn't run away. All of her strength had left the day she'd woken up to a broken husband and the dead memory of a son. The tiny, little pieces of her life were scattered all over the house, and she didn't want to pick them up. She couldn't stand up again.

She's sitting against the bathroom door now, with her eyes red of dispair and anger and tears; her red hair falling down her shoulders as messy as it has never looked before. Her eyes are closed, and she's trying so hard to shut the thoughts out of her head, but she can't now. She's been avoiding them for so long, and now they're all coming back to her and she's not sure if she's going to be able to take it. Maybe she's not only angry and sad, she's also scared. When she thinks about it, she realizes that she's been terrified the last few days. Of the memories not being what she wants them to be. Something from her old self comes up, though, and suddenly she wants to remember. She wants to face the memories. A hurricane inside her takes her back, and she's in the same bathroom where she's sitting in now, but weeks before today.

Jackson's arms are holding their baby with her, hugging them both from behind. His head is in her shoulders, and the three of them are smiling. They had spent so much time of their lives trying to have a baby, but the werewolf genes in Jackson and Lydia's immunity didn't match. The day she'd found out she was finally pregnant, she had walked up to him and whispered it in his ear. He had picked her up as if she was lighter than a feather and spun around the kitchen. Everything could've been so simple. Lydia goes back to the first memory, and wonders why all of her best memories are in the bathroom. All but one.

She can see it in her head as if she was going through it all over again. It's dark, the darkest night she's ever seen. No stars in the sky. No moon. The lights in the house are all out, so she can't see much, but she makes it to the baby's room without falling down the stairs or anything alike. She takes him carelessly, because her hands are shaking. Nothing but a shadow, she slips into the bathroom and into the bathtub. She closes the curtain, and sits in the dark kissing her son and stroking his little fingers and singing him to sleep because if he cries, they're both dead. The other pack, the one with the big cruel wolves, who are such animals that they've forgotten what being a human is like, is after them. After her baby. Jackson is out there, though, with their pack. Scott, Derek, Isaac -even Stiles, they all know him. They have to protect him. She doesn't care about herself, she just wants her baby to be safe. But then she hears the steps in the stairs, heavy and unfamiliar ones. So she stands up, when she thought fear would have her paralized, but she stands up and runs. She manages to get outside, the the streets. It's all so dark, and she has never felt so alone. Her arms are aching, but she is never going to drop her baby. He's woken up, and he cries his heart out because he has no idea what is going on. He never does, though. He's too young for that. But apparently, young and innocent and beautiful is not everything he is. A threat, that other pack said. Because he wasn't a werewolf, and he wasn't human, and he healed faster than any creature. But how did that matter? He was hers, and Jackson's, and he couldn't be considered a threat, not even with a nuclear bomb tied to his chest.

It was the same dream she'd had last night. Running, and smiling when she saw Derek and being about to throw herself to his arms when she fell. And he didn't help her up. He just took her baby, with the saddest look in his eyes. But being sorry about it was no excuse for handing him to a pack of animals. And where had Jackson been? Why hadn't her saved them?

She couldn't do it. She thought she could bare the memories, but she couldn't. It was all too vivid, and it just made her realize how alone she was.

Finally, after looking all through the house, he found her. Bathed in sunlight, barefoot, with her gorgeous hair, long and perfectly red, running down her back like flames. But as usual, the tears in her face made everything more real. He remembered she wasn't there anymore when he saw her eyes closed. But even when she looked at him, she wasn't even there. He watched her cry there, by the bathroom door, and just stood there. He didn't know if she knew he was there, there was no way to tell what was going through her head lately. Besides, he wasn't sure if hee could pick her up now and take her to the room, since he couldn't walk in a straight line. He had been running around the house, looking for her, and imagining what his life would be like if he'd lost her. Losing his baby had been like dying himself, but he hadn't allowed himself to mourn for him. His death had been his fault, Lydia said so with her eyes every time she found his. He should've been stronger, smarter. He hadn't been able to protect his own family, what good was he?

That night, he had left Lydia and the baby upstairs and had run to the pack for help. They must've known that the other pack was there, because they were all in his kitchen. The lights were out, which didn't help, but he found them and told them he needed his help. He told them that the other pack's Alpha had warned him, and that he'd kill everyone in town if they didn't gave him the baby. And then, as if they all knew which each one's role was, they looked at each other and Derek stromed out. He heard the back door slamming shut, and he was about to turn around to check if Lydia had left the house when he found his own friends grabbing his arms, shoving him against a wall and trying to stop him. But he had learned a few things about werewolves after living around them for so long, so he struggled until he freed himself from Scott and Isaac. His own friends, once.

He'd run, chased after Lydia, and seen Derek before she did. And when he was about to scream at her, to warn her that Derek would take their baby, a bullet pierced through his shoulder. The only pack member that he didn't take care of. The weakest one. And he couldn't do a thing but watching for a split of a second how Lydia fell to the ground, before he did too.

He's lost in the memories, but he realizes Lydia's eyes are open. And she's actually looking at him. Not through him, not at a lost point in space. She's looking right at his eyes, and she speaks to him for the first time since that night.

"I wish I didn't love you anymore. I want to hate you so, so much."


End file.
